Poem: 183
Saturday, 26 August 2017

Stronger than before

Francis Pedraza
Aug 26, 2017 · 3 min read

I heard that [Company] is shutting down.
So I’m emailing your [Company] email for maybe the last time.

[Company] is dead; Long live [Company]!
I believe, with all my heart, that the [Name]
that will emerge from this trial will be stronger than before.
I believe that your best days and greatest accomplishments lie yet before you.
And so I wanted to write to you on your birthday to thank you for suffering.

This is a strange thing to thank someone for,
but how much we choose to suffer is one of the great decisions in life.
There is always a way out, a way of escape, of denial — an easier path,
but a path that is not our true, our highest, path.

Ultimately, the suffering that comes from the easy path
is even more terrible than the hard path, but it is terror of a different kind.
It is the terror that comes from the numbness, the hollowness of passing years, that coming of self-denial, like an oppression, slowly corrupting what is left of our vibrancy.

Terror from knowing that no earthly comfort
can bring you the true fulfillment that comes from creative expression.
For the creative path is a spiritual path,
and one that must confront suffering in all of its depth,
in all its manifold forms.

Greatest among these: the suffering of shame, guilt and regret,
the “I wishes” and the “I should haves” that haunt us in the night.

Suffering is not the final reality — but it is a great bridge we must cross,
a nightmare labyrinth that we never seem to escape from;
until someday we escape into the free air and sunlight.

I know you have been in a nightmare labyrinth,
I know you have been crossing that bridge,
and I know that there was no other way — this was your path, your true path.

I remember the strength of your youth;
you were an image of power and glory — full of vitality, the energy of the warrior.

And I know that the strength within you now is strength of a different kind,
and that is the strength of a broken man who, emptied, found himself filled,
filled from a source of power, glory, life and energy beyond himself,
enlightened by a wisdom from eternity, confused by a clarity,
a knowledge unseen.

Hercules!
You now possess the strength of hell,
for you have passed through the gaping maw and returned;
even Cerberus is your lap dog.

What now can defeat you?
What forces of gods or men?
Undertaker, he whom overcomes,
has learned to die many deaths while yet living;
heart, mind and body may lie broken, and yet he heals,
and is filled with power from beyond — for Zeus honors his warrior’s soul.

I am grateful that you have suffered.
I am grateful that you have faced challenges that defeated you,
I am grateful that you have struggled and failed.

Unstoppable force!
I am grateful that you have met immovable objects;
and have crashed your spirit against them,
and been broken on the rocks.

Above all, I am grateful that
you have wrestled yourself and battled the inner battle.

Thank you for suffering,
for we have been watching.

And from you we have learned this:
the greatness of a great man is not in the vastness of success,
but the spirit that endures to strive.

Maximus, your final act is before you!
Before what emperor will you perform in the arena?

I bid you:
Make more mistakes!
Make bigger ones.

There is only one true sin:
to deny that life that is within you its fullest expression,
to fear the extremeness of an extreme life.

Seek with passion and courage, that which thou seek;
with all thy heart, thy soul and might —
fear no darkness, within or without!

Take heart!

Nothing done on earth is in vain,
eternity looks on in approval at destruction.
Twas the gods who wrecked your fair Ilium, for Aeneas,
they are calling you to build mighty Rome.

Many passing suns, and passings of the sun,
will overwatch the labors of your later years,
and we shall yet more wisdoms glean from your suffering.

Thank you for suffering.

Explosions: Poetry

Every poem, an explosion. Spirit moves through all beings who let it. Move through me!

)

Francis Pedraza

Written by

Is spirit moving?

Explosions: Poetry

Every poem, an explosion. Spirit moves through all beings who let it. Move through me!

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